Legs Are for Walking
by Fanfic220
Summary: "Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes is called again to aid the police of London in an investigation that involves a killer who has a very odd obsessiveness over the legs of his victims. Can Sherlock and his trusty partner John Watson solve the mystery?"
1. Chapter 1: Interesting Hobbies

Chapter 1: "Interesting Hobbies"

Sherlock Holmes adjusted his telescope a few degrees to the left and zoomed in on the window of the set of apartments across from his own. As he looked into the telescope, he noticed a man in about his fifties attempting to perform yoga and clip his toenails at the same time. Sherlock didn't know why he wasted his time watching this man attempt this rather disturbing feat, but for one thing; he found it amusing watching the man fail.

John Watson walked in from the front door of their shared flat and stumbled on Sherlock and his little setup. Watson wasn't amused, neither was he curious, but it was his duty as Sherlock's flatmate and partner to make sure he wasn't losing his mind.

"Sherlock, what in God's name are you doing?"

Sherlock didn't even seemed the least bit startled by his partner, but only adjusted the telescope again, then sat back.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Sherlock closed his eyes tightly in embarrassment.

"No, don't answer that; I'm watching the man across the street."

Watson set his suitcase down by the door and straightened himself up.

"Why?" He asked flatly.

Sherlock sat back in his chair.

"You see, I'm observing this man attempt what I'd call a rather interesting feat."

Watson put his hand on his forehead.

"What would that be?"

Sherlock gestured to the telescope.

"Take a look." He beckoned.

Watson took his time getting to the telescope and leaning down to get a good look through and saw just what Sherlock had seen, except, the man was in a much more tense position, while still trying to clip his toenails. After a moment, Watson removed himself from the telescope and took a step back.

"Alright then, that is the last time I ask you what you're doing when I get home."

Sherlock let loose a slight grin.

"Glad to know we're on the same page then. Any news?"

Watson shook his head, then sat down in the chair across from Sherlock. Sherlock himself looked disappointed that there was no case to work on, in fact, there had not been one in at least four months, leaving Sherlock incredibly bored, because after all, he was a sleuth.

Sherlock popped the safety cap back onto the telescope and moved to his more comfortable seat, as he was sitting on a fold-up chair before. He decided to pull out his laptop, and did so, but the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs took hold of his attention; it was Mrs. Hudson coming up with tea for the both of men.

"Why, how are you two today?" The kindly, old landlady asked.

Watson turned around his chair to greet Mrs. Hudson, but Sherlock did not.

"I'm fine; you brought tea?"

She smiled.

"Of course dear. I know you always want some after a hard day's work. How is the clinic?"

Watson took a cup off the tray she was holding and began to drink it.

"It's good, saving lives, you know." He said hesitantly, but he tried to make it seem legitimate with a sloppy swing of his arm, almost causing himself to drop his tea.

"Someone died today, didn't they." Sherlock said without looking up.

Watson hung his head low.

"Yes." Watson said sadly.

Mrs. Hudson put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, that's too bad dear. Well, they're in a better place now."

Sherlock let out a quiet chuckle, but Watson heard it loud and clear.

"What? You don't believe in the afterlife?" Watson asked.

Sherlock shook his head, continuing to laugh.

"No, I don't believe they're in a better place."

Watson again let his head drop, not even bothering to argue with Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson set down the tray on the table, and was about to leave when something came to her mind.

"Oh, speaking of better places, the Detective Inspector called."

Sherlock looked up.

"Really? What for?"

Mrs. Hudson put her hand on her chin.

"I'm not sure, but he said that he wanted you to head down there; that your interesting hobbies would come in handy."

At that instant, Sherlock was up, out of his chair, had his coat on, and was down stairs. Watson had only barely gotten up.

"Why is he in a rush?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"He's bored." Watson responded, heading downstairs after him.

Mrs. Hudson didn't understand.

"Sherlock Holmes bored? What has the world come to?" She said aloud.


	2. Chapter 2: Autopsy Gone Wrong

Chapter 2: "Autopsy Gone Wrong"

"I can't believe this." Molly Hooper said while examining the bodies. It was a gruesome sight to behold as each of the bodies, totaling seven, had their legs detached from their bodies along with that, each and every toenail was picked clean off the toes.

"This is just horrific!" She exclaimed. Never in her years as a Forensic Pathologist had she seen such a brutal sight.

It wasn't long before Detective Inspector Lestrade walked into the morgue. Sherlock and Watson trailed in behind him to discover the gruesome sight of the corpses.

"That's unpleasant." Watson said abruptly.

Molly removed her gloves. "Tell me about it. I've never seen anything like this before."

"Neither have I." Sherlock replied, appearing next to Molly, which gave her a fright.

The Detective Inspector gave Sherlock a strange look then directed his attention to Molly. "Do we know who these people are? Any of them?"

Molly took a moment to flip through her clipboard filled up with as much information that could have been gathered from each of the victims. "Only one." Molly walked down to the other end of the morgue and stopped at a short, plump, brown haired man. "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Alfred Grover."

"The name fits him." Lestrade said sarcastically.

Sherlock examined each of the bodies in his own special way, carefully picking up details as he scanned each body. "Not much to go on. Is there?" He asked Molly.

"No." She responded. "I've been hard at work and have barely found anything."

"And our Mr. Grover?" Sherlock asked, spending more time examining his body.

The D.I. pulled out his notepad. "We're still checking our sources but from we know, he is a high stakes businessman." Lestrade flipped a page. "He worked for a elite company that specialized in..."

"Footwear." Sherlock cut him off.

Lestrade looked up at him. "Right,"

"Wouldn't that give us some insight as to who the murderer is? I mean, our Mr. Grover here works for a footwear company, so maybe it would explain why the murderer cleaned off the feet." Watson theorized.

"Not quite; we can't be sure for certain until we get the rest of the information on the other victims." Sherlock replied.

"Where do we go from here?" Watson asked, looking at the D.I.

The D.I. flipped through his notepad. "I'd suggest the corporate office. Maybe find out who Mr. Grover had connections with."

Molly hadn't been listening for the majority of the time the others had been in the room chatting away. She had been double checking each body, checking extensively for anything that she might have missed. Molly nearly slapped herself at the find she just made. Unprofessionally, she had forgotten to check the back side of the victims. "Found something." She alerted the others. "A bullet."

This find seemed to capture the attention of all three men in the room, who quickly scurried over to the body to examine the body along side Molly.

"How'd you miss this during your first go around?" The D.I. asked her, giving a stern look.

Molly bowed her head in a fit of shame. "Simply my unprofessionalism." She admitted. She got over it very quickly and extracted the bullet from the wound. "I'll run this up to Forensics for analysis." Molly said, putting the bullet into a small plastic bag. "I can't believe I missed that." She said, frowning.

Sherlock appeared next to her, again, surprising her. "Don't get so murderous over it; I'll be picking up for your mistake anyways."

Molly simply turned to him and gave him a slap across his face. "You can call me murderous when you find something to match this bullet."

Sherlock rubbed his cheek. "I'll take you up on your offer." He slipped on his black, cotton gloves and turned to Watson. "Come on Watson, our feet are going places." Sherlock took his usually long strides out the door, but not before stopping to rip the sheet of paper from Lestrade. "Thank you." Sherlock replied before vanishing without a trace. Lestrade was speechless.

Watson took a deep breath while shaking his head. "I'll never understand how that man's mind works."

Lestrade laughed. "I've been forced to work with him for close to two years now, and I barely know how he solves his cases."

Watson sighed and went after Sherlock.


	3. Chapter 3: First Piece of Information

Chapter 3: "First Piece of Information"

Sherlock and Watson got a cab and drove uptown straight to the address of which Lestrade had announced to them, which was the particular footwear company that their deceased Alfred Grover was a higher-up in the corporate side of the the company.

The building of which was a major factory and local headquarters for the company was as tall and elaborately structured that it could have been considered an architectural wonder if it had existed in earlier days. The exterior of the building was one of sheer beauty. The stone that made up the initial foundation of the walls of the building were of a pure white.

"What do you expect to find here, Sherlock?" Watson asked.

"Answers." Sherlock replied, as he opened the door to the main lobby.

The lobby was just as elaborate as the outside of the building seemed. The floor was made of polished marble, with large, stylish rugs laid in various areas of the floor. Along the edge of the room, grey-padded chairs lined the wall, and right in front of the two was the front desk, with a rather short woman with her brunette hair pulled back and tied in a bun. She was typing away at her computer but quickly gave Sherlock her attention when he walked right up to her.

"Good after-" She started before getting cut off by Sherlock.

"I'm looking for Mr. Alfred Grover." He said quickly.

She looked at him in question. "I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Grover hasn't been at-" She tried to reply before getting cut off by Sherlock again.

"I know; where is his office?" He asked.

The woman couldn't figure out what the man before him was trying to go after.

"His office, sir?"

Sherlock nodded fervently. "Yes, his office."

The woman did some typing away at her computer before getting at the information which Sherlock asked for.

"Mr. Grover's office his on the third floor, room three twenty-five."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you." He said, before turning away.

The woman was quick to ask him a question that she held onto since he mentioned Grover.

"Sir, why do you want to see Grover?" She asked.

Sherlock turned around, his hands held in front of him.

"Why not?"

The woman took a moment, then spoke.

"We've gotten reports of him having strange behavior." She said.

This took up Sherlock's interest. "And?" He said plainly, wanting her to continue. He was most intrigued.

The woman adjusted the pair of spectacles that rested on the bridge of her nose.

"You see sir, Mr. Grove is a man of routine, and he is very prudent on his routine. He's the sort of man who will become angry when he doesn't hold true." She said.

Sherlock watched her unceasingly. "What change have you noticed?"

"Mr. Grover usually stands right over there and talks on the phone in the morning." She told him, pointing near a marble pillar near the front door. "He's there until around eleven when he leaves for lunch, then he comes back and heads up to his office. I don't see him leave until around midnight."

Sherlock nodded.

The woman continued. "Well, only just recently, that has all changed. Since I've seen him, he's never there in the mornings, he goes straight to his office, and I've even heard people say that he's even been skipping lunch." She said. "I only seem him over there very late, and his tone has changed when he talks on the phone. It's become very hurried and almost frightened. Once he does finish his calls, he'll quickly walk out of the building and dart his eyes around as if he thinking he's being watched or something."

Sherlock pulled on his gloves a bit and merely smiled at the woman. "Thank you for the information." He said, before turning a second time to leave.

The woman soon caught on to what Sherlock was here for.

"What happened to him, Sir?" She asked.

Sherlock didn't turn around. "Do you really want to know?" He asked.

The woman merely nodded. For some reason, she understood that words weren't needed.

"Alfred Grover is dead." Sherlock said coldly.

The woman did not react, say for tilting her head down.

"You had originally been afraid of that." Sherlock said,

The woman nodded.

Sherlock turned around. "What's your name?" He asked.

The woman looked up at him. "Sarah, Sarah Parker, sir." She responded. "Why did you want to know that?" She asked.

"I had to." Sherlock said before finally turning around and walking away, leaving Sarah stunned at her desk. Watson quickly went after Sherlock.


End file.
